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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26554216">A Horse Named Starscream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/pseuds/fascinationex'>fascinationex</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>transformers fics by fascinationex [32]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Equestrian, Broken Bones, Equestrian, Horses, Humanformers, M/M, horseformers, i guess, sometimes a relationship is two men and a spoilt horse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:42:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26554216</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/pseuds/fascinationex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream throws him on a Monday morning. </p><p>This isn’t unusual. Starscream throws Megatron on average once a week. He views Megatron keeping his seat for more than seven days straight as a personal affront.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>background Megatron/Optimus Prime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>transformers fics by fascinationex [32]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1311599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>144</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Horse Named Starscream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/gifts">neveralarch</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am gifting this work to Neveralarch like a proud parent presenting a mangy, rabid fox cub for their child's birthday. The concept was their idea and <strike>I'm trying to hold them at least minimally accountable</strike> I must give them credit for it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Starscream throws him on a Monday morning. </p><p>

This isn’t unusual. Starscream throws Megatron on average once a week. He views Megatron keeping his seat for more than seven days straight as a personal affront.</p><p>

Today, though, he takes one look at a set of cavaletti—their own cavaletti, which he’s barely even noticed before—pins his ears back flat to his skull and refuses. The tiny baby jumps are set at their lowest level. They’re practically ground rails. </p><p>

Megatron is in no way expecting him to slam on the brakes, throw his weight back and then swerve wildly sideways. </p><p>

There’s a horrible moment when he <em>knows</em> he’s going to lose his seat, and then his guts swoop and the sky and the loose arena dirt go tumbling around him. Instead of hitting the ground, he hits the wooden cross at one end of the cavaletti with a snap. Then he smacks into the dirt. All the air leaves him in a loud grunt on impact. </p><p>

Distantly, he can hear Starscream’s hooves thudding evenly into the dirt somewhere off to his left as he immediately picks up speed and goes for a victory lap. So <em>he’s</em> fine, at least. </p><p>

Megatron’s leg hurts. His stomach is still flipping, and he feels like he’s going to—yes, there it is, his guts clenching brutally, contracting with a jolt of sickening anxiety all the way up his throat. He retches into the dirt, bringing up nothing but watery coffee. Lovely. </p><p>

He rolls himself onto his back and he knows immediately that there’s something very wrong with his left leg, aside from the pain of it. </p><p>

“Starscream, you little shit,” he growls between his teeth. </p><p>

Starscream, hearing these signs of life, ambles closer. Megatron rolls his head just to watch him step ever so nonchalantly over the exact cavaletti he just refused. He lowers his head and shoves his dark nose in Megatron’s face. It feels like warm velvet on his skin.</p><p>

He blows a long, hot breath right into Megatron’s eyes, and then steps delicately over his arm and begins to lip at one of his boots. </p><p>

<em>Aren’t you getting up?</em> He drags a dangling rein over Megatron’s nose.</p><p>

Megatron threads the worn leather through his middle fingers, all the better to avoid the Great Catching Starscream Game which will otherwise inevitably commence when he does get up.</p><p>

“No,” he says, half-heartedly, when he feels Starscream’s teeth close on the toe of his boot like he’s trying to take his toes off. </p><p>

“<em>No</em>,” he says, sharper, when the movement shakes his leg and sends a lance of pain right through him, clean up to his hip.</p><p>

At the sound of Megatron’s mildly raised voice, Starscream dances sideways, neat hooves kicking up the dirt. He throws his head back, and rolls his eyes and squeals. </p><p>

Megatron doesn’t let him go too far. Predictably, Starscream decides he’s not <em>that</em> frightened of Megatron's unfair and horrible abuse after all. He doesn’t even pull on the restraining hand Megatron still has on the reins. </p><p>

Megatron sits up and carefully investigates his leg. He will be shocked if that’s not a broken bone. He wonders if he should get the boot off before it swells, or if it’s better to leave it on as support. </p><p>

He uses the end cross of the cavaletti and Starscream’s saddle to heave himself up, mostly one-legged. Getting back into the saddle is a logistical problem, but for the first time in his life Starscream stands perfectly still to be mounted, allowing Megatron to pull himself over his saddle like a sack of feed. </p><p>

Then all he has to do is nudge him toward the gate and unhook the latch. It swings open with a protesting creak that makes Starscream’s ears tick back and forward. </p><p>

Starscream knows the way back to the stable. He follows it willingly and cheerfully, apparently delighted to get out of work. Megatron scowls thunderously at his hooves all the way. But of course he still hobbles through the trial of untacking him and then turning him out, with his jaw tightly clenched against the pain, before he takes himself off to accident and emergency.</p>
<hr/><p>


Megatron texts Soundwave from the emergency department of the local hospital. </p><p>The overhead lights are bright. The air smells like disinfectant. Everything is white and blue and green. The seats are hard plastic and blue. The triage station is a dull green. The triage nurse seems to have been born immune to Megatron's cranky scowl.</p><p>He clicks his tongue and concludes that the leg is indeed likely broken.</p><p>

“We won’t know for sure until you can get an x-ray,” he tells him. “But I’d say it’s more likely than not.”</p><p>

Megatron believes it. He’s been competing with horses for years now. This isn’t the first bone he’s broken. He knows what it sounds like. </p><p>

“How long, do you think?”</p><p>

“Oh, that depends on what kind of break it is. Not more than six months, usually, though.”</p><p>

Megatron pauses. Icily, he corrects: “I meant how long before I could <em>see a doctor.</em>”</p><p>

He has not contemplated recovery time yet, but the phrase ‘six months’ makes him think about it now. It’s not that his schedule of competitions, taken from the events listed in the Kaon Eventing Association’s calendar, is packed, exactly. Megatron hasn’t taken a horse through a season with any back-to-backs before, and he’s not about to start with an animal as hopelessly idiosyncratic as Starscream. </p><p>

But he <em>does</em> have a schedule in mind—more than just ‘in mind’, really. </p><p>

While events occur year-round, Megatron keeps the old-fashioned belief in an on- and off-season, if only because he doesn’t believe a horse can achieve perfect peak competition fitness on a constant basis. </p><p>

Megatron has spent the coldest months reviewing their last season, determining what competitions Starscream could best use to practice and hit peak performance for the Grand Kaon Championship, selecting fitness milestones and planning conditioning work to get him there. </p><p>

“Oh,” says the nurse. “Oops. Well, a little over three hours?”</p><p>

Megatron gives him a sour grunt and hobbles unsteadily right back to his waiting room seat. This is when he texts Soundwave.</p><p> 

<strong>Broke my leg. I need you to ride Starscream this season through to GKC.</strong></p><p>

He knows Ravage has a suspensory ligament tear, and there’s no way Soundwave is competing any time in the next six months. Maybe longer. </p><p>

Soundwave, however, leaves him on read for fifteen long minutes. Megatron knows, because across from his plastic chair is a plain analogue clock with large numbers, and it measures each minute very slowly. </p><p>

<strong>Query</strong>, he texts back at last. <strong>How did you come to break your leg?</strong></p><p>

Megatron scowls. Furiously, he texts back: <strong>Tripped on a ground rail.</strong> </p><p>

Soundwave clearly doesn’t believe him. Instead of continuing the argument, though, he sends him a phone number. </p><p>

<strong>Try Orion Pax</strong>, he texts. <strong>Retired his horse this year.</strong> </p><p>

Megatron supposes that’s a hard no from Soundwave, then. He knows the name, vaguely, but it doesn’t register any immediately obvious associations. He searches it, and finds Orion Pax is Youth Eventing Champion and, much more recently, an Iaconian League Dressage Championship winner. He’s the last year’s runner up in the Kaon Dressage Championship. As far as Megatron can see, he either hasn’t competed, or hasn’t done very well, in a 3DE for a decade. </p><p>

Dressage is part of a three day event, but Starscream, in particular, has always been much stronger in the cross country and showjumping events. He’s a wilful little monster, too smart for his own good, and he performs best when allowed to take physical obstacles as a personal challenge. More than once, Megatron has wondered if Starscream might do better in showjumping or steeplechase. </p><p>

He considers what the coming months will look like if Megatron is out of action, Starscream cannot compete, and most of the exercise is on a longe line—or the occasions when he <em>can</em> bribe Soundwave to exercise him. </p><p>

Starscream is a smart horse, unfortunately, and that means that when he’s not well occupied, he also becomes a difficult horse.</p><p>

Megatron remembers all the stupid vices Starscream indulges when he’s not forced to practice his manners. The pawing. The chewing. The rhythmic slamming of hooves into the more-delicate-than-advertised walls. The weaving, back and forth, rocking on his hooves, snorting and circling for hours. Even when put out with Megatron’s other horse, he’ll still paw and pick fights with Thundercracker. </p><p>

No, Starscream needs to be… <em>thoroughly</em> occupied. And it would be a shame for him not to compete.</p><p>

He sighs and texts Orion anyway. It’s more important that Starscream be doing something than that he win. And there should be plenty of time to get him used to a new rider. Surely. </p><p>

<strong>Hello Orion, Soundwave gave me this number</strong>, he begins. It can’t hurt, he figures. He’ll pay Orion what he can afford, and if it doesn’t work out they won’t go forward with competing. He’ll have to make do with occupying Starscream as best he can on one leg.</p><p>

Orion turns out to be polite and friendly... unlike Soundwave, who is the very opposite of friendly in most situations. Megatron wonders how they could possibly know each other. </p><p>
<strong>Oh, that’s such a shame</strong>, he writes back when Megatron explains the situation to him. <strong>Yes, I’m ‘between horses’, sort of.</strong> </p><p>

<strong>Sort of?</strong> Megatron prompts. He’ll be annoyed if Orion’s picked up another horse he wants to compete with. </p><p>

Orion, given the smallest opportunity to talk about his horse, takes it in both hands, as is the way of every horse owner Megatron knows.</p><p><strong>I have a 3YO OTTB I’m trying to get up to weight. Only fit for light work right now.</strong> </p><p>

Megatron’s eyebrows rise. Thoroughbreds are not often retired from the track at three—owners usually give them more than a year to hit their stride. Usually he would think that kind of horse was badly injured, but very few competitive riders want a horse with health problems.</p><p>

Maybe the animal had a poor temperament for racing, or the stable had finance issues? An ex-racehorse, though, knows pretty much two things: how to run, and how to turn left. </p><p>

<strong>Here, look, this is Jazz. We’re starting out with, uh, turning right,</strong> Orion texts, pretty much exactly as Megatron is thinking it. One corner of his mouth turns up in a smile. </p><p>

The message comes with a short clip of a striking, dark dappled grey working under saddle. The right turn is fine at walk, and there’s only a small hesitation at a trot, which Megatron notices simply because he’s expecting it. When the clip flickered and cuts to a canter on the right lead, though, the horse seems confused. </p><p>

He nearly collides with the fence before his rider opens the inside rein all the way, until he’s physically wheeling his head around to get him responding. He slows back down to a trot and then turns right, so close he clips his rider’s boot against the fence post. </p><p>

<strong>Looks like he doesn’t like using that shoulder</strong>, Megatron texts. He’s heard of the problem, but he’s never actually seen it live before. The rider looks smaller than him, he notices, so if that’s Orion he might actually be a better fit for Starscream in terms of size. </p><p>

<strong>Yeah. We’re working on it. Haven’t tried him under saddle since</strong>, Orion replies.</p><p>

Megatron can see why. It’s not exactly pretty.</p><p>

<strong>I wouldn’t, either</strong>, Megatron texts, smiling despite the dull and persistent pain in his leg. <strong>Want to try riding a horse that’s actually been broken in?</strong></p><p>

Since he’s trying to convince him, he sends through a picture of Starscream at his most winsome: during a competition, with his bay coat gleaming under the sun and the bright star between his eyes glowing white, long dark legs stretching in a magnificent leap over a fence. He’s in peak condition in the image, too, with bright eyes and clearly visible muscle tone. </p><p>

<strong>This is Starscream.</strong> </p><p>

<strong>!!</strong> sends Orion, which puzzles Megatron for a moment until he adds, half a second after, <strong>he’s beautiful!</strong> </p><p>

Starscream is beautiful, most especially when he’s not actually present. Megatron chooses not to mention any of the other qualities Starscream may or may not have to Orion. </p><p>

<strong>Is he tiny or are you a giant?</strong> Orion wonders then.</p><p>

Megatron glances back at the image. It’s true that most horses that excel at showjumping are at least a hand taller than Starscream, but it’s also true that Megatron is pretty big.</p><p>

<strong>He’s 15h</strong>, he sends back. He does not comment on whether or not that makes him a giant.</p><p>

They go back and forth a little, surprisingly easily—or else Megatron is just bored enough to take any kind of stimulation right now. </p><p>

<strong>Alright, I’ll bite. When can I come meet him?</strong> Orion asks at last. </p><p>

<strong>I’ll let you know when I get out of the emergency room</strong>, Megatron promises. Feeling satisfied, he puts his phone away. </p><p>

“You’ve broken your tibia,” the doctor says, hours later, when he actually gets in to see him. It’s not displaced, but it needs to be kept completely still, and they want him to sit around and elevate it for two days. </p><p> Megatron assumes that resting and elevating is an activity that can include turning the horses out and bringing them in of an evening, but he has not actually asked. He has no intention of asking.</p><p>

“I’d really advise against continuing with equestrian,” the doctor adds, wrinkling his nose. Megatron’s boots, in particular, dirty and reeking of manure, have offended him since the first moment he glanced at them. “It’s a silly, dangerous sport.”</p><p>

“I didn’t ask,” Megatron tells him. "Thank you."</p><p>

When he emerges, Soundwave is waiting for him in the parking lot. He is tall and wiry, and his dark glasses glint under the pale light of the overcast sky. There’s no evidence of how he actually arrived at the hospital.</p><p>

Soundwave eyes Megatron. “Keys,” he says, holding out one hand. </p><p>

There’s a long, slightly hostile pause. </p><p>

Finally, Megatron puts his keys in his open palm. Soundwave’s fingers close around them like a bear trap. </p><p>

It turns out that Megatron doesn’t have to bring the horses in, because Soundwave is going to loiter in his house and stand over him to make sure his leg is iced and elevated, which means he’s there to do it. Megatron is singularly unsurprised, and slightly vindicated, when it takes him two and a half hours and he gets bitten twice in the Great Catching Starscream Game.</p><p>

He returns, unsaked-for, the next day to ferry Megatron to get his cast looked at when the swelling has gone down. It means he’s also there for the much simpler activity of turning them back out. Megatron watches sourly from the driveway, leaning heavily against the car. Soundwave looks small in the distance. </p><p>

Thundercracker knows where he’s going and barely needs leading, waking amiably alongside Soundwave and out to pasture. Starscream, on the other hand, is already feeling playful. Megatron can see, even from this distance, when he turns his head and tries to chomp Soundwave’s shirt. He probably wouldn’t take much skin, but he does tend to be rough on fabric. </p><p>

The tiny Soundwave-figure pokes him between his shoulders and says something sharply. Megatron can hear Starscream’s offended squeal clearly from the driveway. </p><p>

“Query,” murmurs Soundwave, when he climbs into the driver’s seat after watching Megatron awkwardly negotiate his way into the passenger side. </p><p>

“Mm?”</p><p>

“How will you convince Orion, once he’s met Starscream?”</p><p>

Megatron’s brow furrows. “He’s just bored,” he says. He’s not sure he likes how defensive it comes out. “And he doesn’t like changes to his routine.”</p><p>

Soundwave eyes him steadily. But he says nothing, and then he turns the key in the ignition and begins to back out.
</p><p>
Neither of them mentions the hole in his shirt.
.</p>
<hr/><p>


He gets Orion out in a few days, which is a few days of letting Starscream wander around the paddock grazing all day instead of working. Orion is happy to do mornings with him several days a week, which, while not ideal, is better than nothing. Perhaps if Megatron can get used to the infernal cast and get him on the longe line on the other days, his conditioning won’t suffer at least.</p><p>

Orion looks nothing like Megatron expects, even having seen a few photos taken from a distance online. He’s clean-shaven and broad-shouldered with kind, if tired, blue eyes. His hair needs a trim. He has rough hands and when they clasp hands in greeting he does not grip Megatron’s hand like he’s trying to prove anything in particular. Megatron squeezes gently and lets him go. </p><p>

He looks at Megatron, grumpy and already struggling with the cast for the day, and his smile turns sympathetic. </p><p>

“I broke my collarbone a few years ago,” he says, eyeing the leg. </p><p>

That’s common in the sport. Megatron grunts, and then remembers Orion is someone he wants to do him a favour and makes the gargantuan effort of being polite. “I’ve heard that’s a bad one.”</p><p>

“Terrible,” Orion agrees, mild and pleasant. “Couldn’t live with me for weeks.”</p><p>

The question Soundwave posed in the car is still unfortunately very relevant, and so far Megatron’s plan is this: hope that the novelty of the situation puts Starscream on his best behaviour, and try not to leave Orion alone with him. </p><p>

Of course, no plan survives first contact with the enemy. In this case, the enemy is Starscream. </p><p>

It starts out okay.</p><p>

Catching him is shockingly easy, for once. It’s Soundwave who has been coming over to check they have their supplemental feed and water, and to bring them both in at night, so he hasn’t actually seen Megatron in a few days. </p><p>

Getting up to the paddock is an exercise in patience, both his and Orion’s, but the very moment Starscream sees Megatron leaning his crutches against the fence he comes at an excited trot, tail high and ears pricked forward, making a happy noise low in his throat. Clods of dirt fly up around his hooves.</p><p>

Next to him, Orion makes a soft noise, like a quiet, aborted ‘aww’. </p><p>

“Here,” he says, and shoves the half-carrot bribe he’s brought for just this into Orion’s hands. </p><p>

Starscream slows to a walk, shaking his mane and still whickering cheerfully. </p><p>

“Do we really need it?” Orion wonders, but he holds the bright orange treat out temptingly anyway. “He seems pretty happy to see you.” </p><p>

“He’s… playful.” One of Starscream’s favourite games is to come into catching range then dart away. Usually, he wants to play more than he wants the carrot. Megatron’s hoping he’ll go for it today because it’s been a while since they’ve seen each other close up.</p><p>

Starscream gives Orion a mistrustful stink-eye, and then looks to Megatron, a clear <em>what’s HE doing here?</em> But he stretches his neck forward. Orion steps back, forcing Starscream to move his hooves to get to it. </p><p>

Megatron tosses a rope over his neck while he’s snarfing up the treat, and then casually loops his fingers through Starscream’s halter while he secures it. Remarkably painless. </p><p>

“He’s such a good boy,” Orion says, more for Starscream’s sake than Megatron’s. Starscream likes it: his ears swivel towards Orion, and he noses at his hand again. </p><p>

<em>No you don’t</em>, thinks Megatron, taking a firm grip on the strap of his halter before ‘inquisitive nosing’ turns into ‘just a little taste’. “Can you get the crutches?” he asks. </p><p>

Orion eyes Megatron and Starscream and for a split second it is painfully clear that he is contemplating the ideal division of labour here. </p><p>

“Give me one,” Megatron mutters. </p><p>

“…sure.”</p><p>

Hoping to distract him, Megatron says, “Tell me about Jazz.”</p><p>

This covers the ten minute—fifteen, given Megatron’s current speed—walk to get Starscream down to the barn, during which Megatron at least succeeds in not having him bite anyone. He idly hums his agreement as Orion says the same things everyone always says: thoroughbreds are worked too hard, too young, the racing environment is too stressful, they’re not treated like individual animals but numbers in stalls, they don’t develop the same trust with their riders, so on, so forth.</p><p>

“Jazz is the sweetest horse, really,” says Orion, in the deeply familiar tone of someone trying to convince himself through the fog an animal’s evident behavioural problems. </p><p>

<em>They all are</em>, thinks Megatron, side-eyeing Starscream. “He looked good in the clip you sent,” he says instead. “Good legs.”</p><p>

Orion brightens. “He’s got a lot of potential.”</p><p>

He smiles widely at Megatron. Megatron swallows </p><p>

“Mm,” he agrees. </p><p>Starscream, recognising that he is not being paid any attention at this very second, walks right into Megatron, nearly knocking him over until Orion steadies him. </p><p>

Starscream is rock-steady for any amount of grooming, and this applies even when Orion’s the one doing it. He doesn’t stamp, or refuse to pick his feet up, or refuse to lower his head, or lean his entire body on Orion, or chew his lead rope. Megatron, somehow exhausted from that short walk, hangs out around his head while Orion cleans him up. </p><p>

The tack is labelled for each horse, so he lets Orion fetch it and stays off his leg. </p><p>

Starscream, predictably, blows out his sides the second the saddle is on his back. Orion laughs, thankfully, but they have to mess around and make—ugh—small talk until he gets bored and deflates to his normal size, which lets the girth be tightened a good four or five notches, and ensures the saddle isn’t going to slide to the side and dump Orion under Starscream’s dubiously merciful hooves. </p><p>

All in all, the Starscream experience is incredibly mild this morning. </p><p>

Which is why Megatron feels dumb for being surprised when Orion mounts—avoiding Starscream’s “inquisitive” nosing at his elbow, which he does with his ears tilted back toward Megatron and his lip peeled back from his teeth, ominously—and then, at last, finds himself seated upon a horse who won’t take a single step. 
</p><p>
Starscream turns his head enough to side-eye Orion on his back. It’s an ugly look.</p><p>

Orion squeezes with his legs. </p><p>

Starscream looks back at Megatron. </p><p>

<em>Why,</em> Megatron imagines him saying—demanding, really, imperiously— <em>are you all the way over there?</em></p><p>

“Walk on,” Orion tries. He uses more pressure. 
</p><p>
Starscream doesn’t budge. </p><p>

There’s a touch of heel this time. Starscream twitches unhappily and pins his ears back. He shakes his head back and forth. </p><p>

“Um,” says Orion, embarrassed. Whether for himself or for Megatron, it’s hard to say. </p><p>

He dismounts, and they do a check of all his limbs, of the bit and the saddle and the saddle cloth, in case they’ve missed something that’s causing him pain. And by this Megatron means that Orion does all the checking, and that Megatron stands there doing nothing like a fallen lemon, and that Starscream very helpfully tries to stomp on Orion’s boot and then squeals like he’s being murdered when Orion tells him to cut it out. </p><p>

There is, they determine—and as Megatron very much expects—nothing at all wrong with Starscream. <em>Physically</em>.</p><p>

But as far as Starscream is concerned, he’s a confused, innocent and horribly maligned baby who has never been taught what any of Orion’s aids could possibly mean. </p><p>

He plants his hooves, looks at Megatron in baffled betrayal, and doesn’t go anywhere at all.</p><p>

“You <em>giant fucking sook</em>,” Megatron mutters.</p><p>

Orion laughs, bright and sharp. Megatron glances up at him. His face is flushed, perhaps from embarrassment, but it’s still a very cute look.</p><p>

“Do you want to lead him?” Orion suggests, sounding remarkably sanguine about the issue. </p><p>

Starscream begins pawing the earth while he’s talking. Megatron scowls at him. Oh, <em>absolutely not</em>.</p><p>

He hobbles forward and takes his reins from Orion. Starscream follows Megatron’s hand on the reins like he isn’t sure how to walk with Orion’s weight on his back, stiff legged and reluctant and absurd looking.</p><p>

Megatron talks to him, and takes him in a hobbling, wonky circle, and asks him to change direction a few times, and then to step backwards, and then to go forwards. Predictably, Starscream’s movements smooth out while his brain is occupied with paying attention to Megatron’s instructions, which puts paid to the notion that he might be in some kind of physical pain. </p><p>

The moment Megatron steps wearily back, however, Starscream sees him and realises it’s definitely not his weight on his back. Once again he turns his head to stare balefully at Orion. </p><p>

“Go on,” Orion says, sounding amused. He gives him a nudge.</p><p>

Starscream won’t lift his hooves. </p><p>

“<em>Starscream</em>,” growls Megatron. Starscream flicks his tail. He’s sharing those ugly looks with Megatron now, too. </p><p>

“<em>Hm</em>,” says Orion. </p><p>

Megatron heaves a sigh. “Let’s …just see if you can longe him standing next to me.”</p>
<hr/><p>


Starscream works just fine when it’s Megatron holding the line. But he is <em>very upset</em> when they trick him by trading off while he’s working. 

</p>
<hr/><p>
“Ouch,” says Orion mildly, when he’s sitting at Megatron’s kitchen table and icing what experience tells Megatron will be a very dark bruise come morning.</p><p>

The room’s small, cottage-y. Megatron inherited his house from a distantly related cousin, and he hasn’t done anything with the place. There’s still fuzzy, ancient carpets and shockingly floral upholstery. In the kitchen, the lacy tablecloths have all gone, leaving the scarred and pitted wood beneath on display, but the frothy white curtains remain. It’s clean, at least—which is more Soundwave’s doing than Megatron’s. </p><p>

Megatron sits across from him. His back and side are aching from doing so much work on crutches,  and his foot’s propped up on the third and final kitchen chair. It’s throbbing a little, his heart beat a painful drum in the lower part of his leg.</p><p>

He’s already apologised once for Starscream’s manners, and he won’t do it again. He just makes an annoyed noise in his throat. </p><p>

“So I’m getting the impression that Starscream is kind of a one-person horse.”</p><p>

“So it seems,” says Megatron flatly, giving each word equal weight, like gunshots. A ‘one person horse’ usually refers to a horse who behaves best only for one person. This is… probably a generous term for Starscream. </p><p>

He’s already trying to figure out what he’s going to do with him for the coming months if Orion won’t ride him—and it’s looking a lot like Orion won’t even want to come and <em>exercise</em> him, let alone take him eventing.</p><p>

To be fair, he and Orion probably got more exercise than Starscream did today. </p><p>

“I think we need to work on establishing trust,” Orion says then, consideringly.</p><p>

Megatron eyes him. </p><p>

“You want to work with him?”</p><p>

“I woudn’t <em>buy</em> him—” Orion starts, and Megatron snorts, “—but I’ll work with him.” He blinks slowly. “Do <em>you</em> want me to work with him?”</p><p>

“Yes. Of course.” Someone has to. And frankly, Orion already seems like he has the patience of a saint.</p><p>

“He’s a lovely horse, really,” Orion says, which is absolutely a lie, but which nevertheless makes Megatron feel better disposed to him in general. “When he’s behaving, anyway,” he adds. </p><p>

Megatron does not say <em>I’ll let you know if that happens</em>, but he thinks it.</p><p>

“I’m sure we’ll get there.”</p><p>

Orion’s bright blue eyes shine with the light of irrepressible optimism. It’s fascinating that the man can be so optimistic, given that he’s currently holding ice to a bite that’s going to be a bruise the size of his fist.</p><p>

Megatron gives him a crooked smile back. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In my childhood and teens I was a Horse Person, but I don't think I've even laid eyes on a horse in the last decade. </p><p>Got a cursed crack concept you wish someone was dumb enough to write? There is a strong chance I want to hear about it. <a href="https://cardio-vore.tumblr.com/">Here's my tumblr.</a></p><p>As always, if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to let me know in a comment! :)</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26735611">[Podfic of] A Horse Named Starscream</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/carboncopies/pseuds/carboncopies">carboncopies</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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